


Disinclined to Acquiesce

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Dad!Jason AU [17]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6046612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an order, not a request, but Dick turned it down anyway. There was a difference in definition, and Bruce starting to think that his interpretation was wrong. </p><p>So very, very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disinclined to Acquiesce

**Author's Note:**

> Would be around Forever Evil/Spyral time, obviously. Damian’s 15-16 here, and already Robin. He and Jason spent the chaos helping others (using their skills, but not in costume), probably got stuck in a couple explosions, etc etc, that’s why they’re hurt. Despite Damian’s age, they’re all so relieved, they all three sleep in Dick and Jason’s bed later, like they used to when Damian was a baby. I wanted to get the point across that ‘Dick’s’ world and the ‘whole’ world were synonymous to him, because Jason and Damian are his whole world, but. I don’t think I did real great.

Dick felt like a little kid, sitting on the Cave gurney. Hands gripping the sides, legs kicking back and forth.

He watched Bruce move around the monitors, check all his readings. Just making sure. Making sure his momentary death was just that, that Luthor’s odd trick worked, and everything in his systems were a-okay.

Because he wanted to go home.

It’d been what, four or so days? Jason and Damian had to be worried. He wonder if they contacted Bruce when he didn’t come back, or if Bruce contacted them. Or if he _could_.  With this new attack, with the so-called Crime Syndicate descending on the whole world like they did…Dick knew he wasn’t the only hero deemed missing.

(He ignored the darker thoughts. That his boys saw the broadcast of his capture and unmasking. That Jason knew nothing beyond that, and spiraled back into a depression. Into a borderline dangerous drinking habit, like he had over ten years ago.

Or worse, that Jason and Damian were caught in the crossfire. That they would end up being two of the many citizens the Crime Syndicate killed, just because they could.  That as soon as he was out of here, he’d run back to an apartment that was empty. Destroyed. Bloody.)

One thought he didn’t ignore, though, was: “And no sign of Damian, right?”

Bruce glanced up from his readings. “No.” Eyes back down. “As far as I know, there were no Robin sightings during this crisis.”

A sigh of relief. _Good_.

“Can we call them?” Dick asked, kicking his legs faster, excitement bursting through his veins, even all these fifteen-odd years later.

Bruce didn’t look up this time. “No.”

“Oh.” Dick nearly pouted. “Well, we’re almost done, though. Right?”

Bruce hesitated, and Dick didn’t like that. “…We’ll talk about it all in a minute, Dick.”

No, Dick didn’t like this at all.

But he waited. Silently, anxiously. He kept glancing over to the lockers, to where Damian’s uniform was thrown lazily across the bench, from his last patrol. Cape slipping to the floor, where his boots were scattered. He smiled to himself. That boy was such a _slob_ , where did he and Jason go wrong?

After a time, Bruce cleared his throat, appeared in front of Dick.

“Everything checks out.” Bruce declared. “You’re fine.”

“Great.” Dick hopped from the gurney. “Then if you don’t mind, B, I’ve got a husband and teenager to get back to.” A laugh. “Mind if I take a few days vacation, too?”

Bruce didn’t return the smile. “…That’s what we need to talk about, Dick.”

Dick dropped his grin.

“There’s an organization. It’s worldwide but based in Europe. England.” Bruce started. “It’s searching for the identities of the Justice League, and others of the world’s heroes. And I don’t think I have to tell you how dangerous that is, our identities potentially in the wrong hands.”

“Of course not.” Dick countered. “Your point?”

“I…The organization needs to be infiltrated.” Bruce said quietly. “But it would be a full time mission. No room for anything or anyone else. And I can’t go myself, or else it’d raise suspicion.”

Dick waited.

“…With the world thinking you’re dead, it’s the perfect opportunity.” Bruce concluded. “No one would recognize you. You’d be a ghost.  With no ties to anything or anyone else. The organization – Spyral – would feel a sense of safety in working with you under these conditions, I’d imagine.”

Dick blinked, pursed his lips.

“So let me get this straight.” Dick surmised, crossing his arms. “You _want_ me to fake my death. Let the world, and therefore my husband and _my child_ , think I’m dead and gone and not _ever_ coming back…so I can follow this hunch of yours and… _maybe_ protect a _little bit_ of information?”

“Not just protecting.” Bruce added. “We need to find out what Spyral’s game plan is. Find out their ultimate goal and shut them down. Permanently.”

“So, pretend to be dead, then pretend to be James Bond.” Dick shrugged. Bruce ignored the tension in his shoulders.

“…Essentially.”

Dick slowly nodded. Popped his tongue into his cheek and looked off to the side. Tapped a finger against his bicep before huffing an exhale and turning back.

“Are you out of your _fucking mind?_ ”

Bruce kept his face emotionless.

“The world just experienced an apocalypse. There’s cities to rebuild, communities to protect. Dead to mourn.” Dick spat. “And you want me to go skip around the globe playing spy? Just because _you_ don’t have time?”

Bruce sighed. “Dick-”

“And worse, you want me to lie to Jason? To _Damian_?” He’d uncrossed his arms now. Threw his left arm out in gesture, as if the two in question were standing right there. “Make them think I’m dead, again? Let them go through that hell, _again_? Or what, Bruce? Don’t tell me this old age of yours is finally getting to you. Don’t tell me you _forgot_ what happened twelve years ago.”

“I remember.” Bruce promised with a scowl.

“Okay, great. You remember. So are you just telling me you don’t care?” Dick’s voice was rising now. Hands balling into tight, shaking fists. “You don’t care that your son – that _two_ of _your sons_ – still have nightmares about that? Still have nights where they wake up _screaming_ because they think the Court came back to finish the damn job? To take me away again? To try and murder Jason _again_?”

“I do care.” Bruce tried to push. “But, Dick, listen, this would be-”

“So then, what? Is this a ploy?” Dick’s hands were waving wildly now. “I thought you were off this game, Bruce.”

And Bruce couldn’t help it. “What _game_?”

“Of trying to take Damian away from us.” Dick replied lowly. “We let you give him Robin. We let you take his safety from us. So, what, are you saying that’s not enough? That now…now you’re going to ship me halfway across the fucking world, and snatch him away when I’m not looking?” Dick laughed, and it was dark. “But there’s still Jason to consider. And he may trust you now, Bruce, but he’s still a problem, right? He’s still in your way of getting that custody you always wanted. So what, with me out of the picture, you gonna get Jason thrown in jail? Have Talia come and take him back? Maybe get him _killed_ all over again?”

“It’s for the good of the _world_ , Dick!” Bruce shouted, leaning into Dick’s face. Dick didn’t budge. “And if the world isn’t safe then, goddamn it, neither is _your_ _family!_ ”

Dick paused, sucked a breath in through his nose. “Then I’ll be able to protect them a hell of a lot easier here in Gotham than if I were in fucking _England_.”

Dick began to walk away, then. Heading towards the lockers where Bruce knew he had a jacket.

“Dick-”

“No.” Dick whirled around, pointed an accusing finger. “No, Bruce. I’m done. I’m not…I’m not taking _orders_ from you anymore. I…I love you, more than anything, you _know_ that, but I’m not coming every time you fucking call. I’m not gonna let you…jerk me around like this.” A silence, then quieter. “I’m not letting you take me from my family.”

An echo of bats above them.

“I’ll help you with this mission, sure. Like I always do. I’ll do retcon, run evidence, whatever. I’ll watch Gotham while you’re gone.” Dick whispered. “But my family is most important. Jason and Damian are most important. And I won’t let you – let _this_ – take me away from them. Not for anything. Not for the whole world, not even for _you_. Not anymore.”

 _Not after this_ , was left unsaid.

Dick didn’t wait for any sort of rebuttal. He slid the jacket on – Jason’s jacket, his old one, Bruce realized – and practically ran towards the bikes. Found one acceptable, straddled it and took off.

No goodbye. No good luck. Just gone.

Bruce waited for the sound of the motor to disappear before he sighed, slammed his bundle of papers onto the gurney.

Dick didn’t get it. Dick, he mused, _never_ got it. Always focused on the singular, never the bigger picture.

But then again, death changes things. Death changes _everything_. And, despite it all, Dick _had_ been dead, for those a few seconds.

He wonder what Dick saw, when he was dying. Did he see his parents? His friends? Or did he just focus on Jason? On the love of his life and the teenager he raised, waiting for him back in Gotham? What about when he was revived? Was the not-so-little boy who kept them all together his first thought? Or was it the husband who supported him, guided him through all the good times and bad?

And Bruce had gotten to hold him after. His son, his eldest son. In the relief of the moment, he held him. He held him and was near-petrified to let him go.

So who was he to deny that chance to Jason? To Damian?

To poor little Damian, who had lost so much already. Who’d lost him, a few years ago. Had already lost Dick once, when he was a child. Who still seemed haunted by what had happened to Jason, despite not actually being there. Despite only finding out about it recently, in the past few years.

 _But it would be for the good of the world_ , he thought as he found himself drifting over towards the computer. _And therefore good for him_.

The doubt was setting now, though.

Because…would it really? For any of them?

He hit a few buttons, waited for the screen to light up. Hit a few more when it did, found the video feeds to the cameras he had set up in Jason and Dick’s neighborhood.

The streets looked deserted. Cracked and messy, littered with cars and toppled trashcans and trees. But not beyond repair. Not destroyed, like so many other places in the world, right now.

The apartment building was the same. He could see cracks up the building, a few shattered windows, but nothing massive. Nothing a few well-placed Wayne Enterprises dollars wouldn’t fix.

It was a few minutes, but he saw Dick’s bike. Speeding down the street without a care of who might be watching. He squealed to a stop in front of the building, let the bike fall to its side as he dashed towards the door.

After Dick disappeared into the building, Bruce moved the camera, found the window of the Grayson-Todd home. He could see some of the pictures on the wall were skewed. The television was toppled to its side. But otherwise, there was no one.

Not until Dick literally kicked the door in, though. Clung to the doorframe as he screamed. Names, probably, but Bruce didn’t have the audio.

A few seconds later, Damian appeared from the hallway. Tall, lanky, muscular, with gauze wrapped around his arms and one ankle, bandages striped across his face and neck. He ran at Dick full speed, wrapping his arms tightly around Dick’s shoulders, burying his face in his father’s neck.

Dick caught him easily, and with clear relief. Held the teenager even as he continued speaking, as Damian answered whatever he was saying with nods or shakes of his head.

Damian shifted, just a little. Just enough that Bruce could see his mouth. And even without the audio, even without hearing a single thing, he knew exactly what Damian’s lips were saying. Repeating over and over.

_“I knew you’d come home.”_

Bruce could see Dick crying already.

And the tears streamed faster, when Jason appeared a few minutes later. Bruises and cuts across his skin, leg wrapped in a cast as he hobbled across the floor on crutches. Damian moved just far enough back to stabilize him, even as Dick leaned forward to let him fall into his arms.

Dick kissed him. Urgently, passionately. Running his fingers gently across those freshly mottled cheeks. Pressed their foreheads together, even as he reached out for Damian once more. Held both of his boys, cradled his chin between their faces, even as his tears dripped onto their skin.

And Bruce was going to take him away from this.

_It was for the good of the world._

But he watched, as Jason must have made a joke, said something sarcastic, probably about the jacket. Because suddenly Dick was smiling. Smiling and sobbing and not letting either of them go. Bruce watched, as Damian removed himself from the group to move to Jason’s other side, as he and Dick helped Jason to the sofa.

And he sighed. Felt guilt swirling in his gut.

_But was it for the good of his?_

Jason dropped to the sofa, and Dick immediately flopped to his side. Damian disappeared back into the hallway, only to reappear with a pillow, slipping it under Jason’s foot as he propped it up on the coffee table. He rounded the table, fell into Jason’s waiting embrace. Leaned his head on Jason’s shoulder as Jason tangled his fingers in his son’s hair, and Dick ran his thumb across a bandage on the boy’s cheek.

Because the _whole_ world and _his_ world. They were _different_. Different inferences, different meanings. One was larger than the other. One _meant_ more than the other.

Right?

He watched Dick pull Damian’s face closer to his own. Kiss his forehead and then press his own against the teenager’s. Dick was still crying, and Bruce could see his mouth forming the words, _“I love you. I love you so much, kiddo.”_ over and over, even as they both settled against Jason’s broad chest. As Jason cocooned them both, leaned his cheek against Damian’s hair, held them tighter than he’s ever allowed the public to see.

…Right?

**Author's Note:**

> [Other things for Nevolition’s Dad!Jason AU](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/tagged/dad%21jason+au)   
> 


End file.
